by C. A. Harms
Chapter Two
Janelle
“It’s cute.” I watch Jackie as she lowers Whitney, my two-year-old niece, to the floor at her side.
Both my sisters stopped by to see my new place and of course to share their thoughts. I have always been very close to my sisters, best friends our entire lives, inseparable. Most refer to us as the fierce three. Piss off one, you get the wrath of all three of us; we stand as a united front; right or wrong, we form as one. If one of us loves you, then you are golden because the other two will love you too, even if they don’t truly know you at all. Love by association.
Jackie, twenty-eight and recently divorced after her husband cheated on her with their nineteen-year-old babysitter, is the harder of the Pearson sisters. I’d like to say the divorce and Rob’s betrayal made her that way, but I would be lying. She has always been strong and feral. She’s the mother figure of us three, always feeling as though she had to lead the younger ones and protect us from any true threat or heartache.
Janie is the youngest of the Pearson girls at age twenty-two. She hasn’t yet grown out of her wild and free stage. She’s mouthy, opinionated, and never shies away from saying whatever is on her mind; it doesn’t matter who is around when she thought it. She could be embarrassing at times but never once lets it stop her from being who she is.
I’m sandwiched in the middle at twenty-five and recently moved out of my tiny apartment above my parents’ garage after finishing beauty school and getting a job in an upscale salon. It helps that my aunt owns it, but hey, I earned it, too. I graduated at the top of my class, and I’m eager to begin the next chapter of my life.
“Small,” Janie says as she exits my bedroom and re-enters the kitchen. “I think the backyard is bigger than the house, though.”
She who lives in a loft apartment she shares with another girl.
“I think you need a pool.” She turns around and leans against the countertop as she pops the tab on her cola.
“It’s a rental,” I remind her, and she shrugs.
“A housewarming party, then.” A look of excitement fills my youngest sister’s eyes as she looks between Jackie and me. “I can plan it all. You won’t have to do a thing.”
“As if she’s gonna let you plan a party at her place.” With a roll of her eyes, Jackie shakes her head knowingly. “A bunch of half-naked college boys running around and girls giggling at all the dumb shit they pull.”
“Dumb shit,” Whitney, my niece, repeats from the floor, and I cover my mouth to hide my smile.
“Ah, damn it,” Jackie mumbles.
“She is repeating everything now.”
“You’re telling me.” Jackie steps closer. “Last night, I was giving her a bath, and she told me all about Breanna and her daddy.” I cringe at the mention of the once babysitter who was banging my ex-brother-in-law behind my sister’s back. “Apparently when she stays at Daddy’s house, she hears Breanna hollering in the middle of the night.” Jackie’s eyes widen, I am sure to match my own. “She then told me Daddy told her Breanna has bad dreams that make her wake up screaming.”
Oh my hell.
I have no idea how my sister does it. I would have killed my husband and his little slut long ago.
“That is exactly why we need to have a little party here,” Janie reminds us of our previous conversation. Well, not ours, but hers. “I can invite some guys that I know can make you scream, too.”
“No thanks.” Jackie has no intention of getting any man or boy anytime soon. I can’t blame her really after her experience. Why would any sane person be ready to jump back into the frying pan and get burned once again?
“No parties,” I interrupt, lifting another box from the floor and opening the lid. “I’ve already managed to piss off one neighbor in less than twenty-four hours of living here. I don’t need to piss off the rest.”
“What did you do?” I look back over my shoulder and am met with the curious stare of my oldest sister. “Did you park in their space or something?”
“I was too loud too early.” I shrug and begin to lift the dishes from the box and place them in the cabinets. “He stormed over here this morning with an attitude and a scowl.”
“He?” I don’t have to turn around to see the interested look in Janie’s eyes. At the mere mention of a man, she is all bright eyes and ready to roll. To say my sister is a wild child is an understatement. She loves men, and they love her even more.
“Yes, he,” I reply.
“Cute?”
“An ass is more like it.” I can feel myself getting agitated remembering the pissy words he tossed around only hours ago. “The man is a complete prick.”
“But is he cute?”
Jackie laughs, and I ignore the excessive babbling of Whitney as she sits on my kitchen floor smacking two pans together.
“Should I take your silence as a yes?”
“I didn’t really pay much attention.” It is such a lie. Prior to the moment he opened his mouth, I was a little taken back by his looks. Tall, as in six-foot-two or more at least. Dark hair, dark eyes, and tattoos that gave him that desirable edgy look I seem to crave. His shirt covered up the upper arms and shoulders, but I swear I could see the tips of something peeking out beneath the collar of his tight-fitting shirt that matched the intricate pattern that ran over his right arm. He is so beautifully proportioned that it seemed unfair he got so much while other men I’ve met over the years got so little. Broad chest, thick, and fighting against the material of his thin t-shirt. It was obvious that he was fit, built, and—
“Never mind,” Janie says in a somewhat sing-song voice. I peek at her just in time to see a wide smile stretch out over her face. “I can already see it in your eyes.”
Trying to lie or hide anything from my sisters is pointless. I swear we all share thoughts without even trying. It’s like we know what the other is thinking, feeling, and even wanting.
“So,” Janie drags out the word, and I see the devious look in her eyes, “a party then?”
“No.” She is already nodding her head as she backs away, holding up her phone, giving it a little jiggle in the process. “Janie Leann, I said no.” Jackie is snickering as she watches the two of us.
“I want to see the grumpy neighbor.” My youngest sister bounces on the balls of her feet.
“So walk over and knock on his door, but brace yourself for the storm.”
“Tempting, but something tells me pissing him off by throwing a party will make everything a whole lot better and definitely more interesting.”
“I have to live next to him, so no, pissing him off is the last thing I want to do.” I lunge for her phone, and Bear starts to bark. This makes Whitney giggle as she stands up and starts to chase my playful St. Bernard around the small kitchen space.
“Imagine this, if you will.” Janie uses my small kitchen table to form a barrier between us. “He comes over, wearing only a pair of jeans hanging low on his waist, showing off every inch of his chest. You answer the door feeling heated and a little tipsy from a few hours of partying.” I roll my eyes at her, and her smile widens, mischief playing in her eyes as it always does. “You have no idea that the shirt you are wearing is clinging to you like a second skin from the heat of the night, leaving you on full display for his wandering eyes. He slowly takes you in, forgetting all about his intentions to tell you to cut the shit and end the party. The two of you stare at one another, the lustful gaze only getting hotter and more intense with each passing second.”
“Who are you?” Janie is such a brat, but I will admit her breakdown is a little enticing.
“He steps in closer, your bodies now only inches apart, and he slowly drops his gaze, taking in every inch of you. Your petite figure is engulfed by his towering frame.” I can feel my cheeks heat. “Then before you have a chance to register what is taking place, he has you pinned to your front door, his hands on your T-I-T-S, his E-R-E-C-T-I-O-N pushing into you as he shifts his hips.”
&nbs
p; “The spelling it out is killing the fantasy.” Jackie laughs, still standing near the sink watching us.
“Well, if your little one wasn’t so great at picking up the words of others, I wouldn’t have to spell it out.”
“First off, the man is grumpy, and the last thing I want is for him to pin me to anything.”
“A mattress,” Janie arches a brow, “the wall, oh, the hood of a car?”
“Or maybe the kitchen counter, the table perhaps?” Jackie adds, gaining my attention. I watch her as she gazes at my small, weak table that separates Janie and me.
“Rob and I broke a table once.” I may worry about her if she wasn’t wrinkling her nose in disgust. She isn’t longing for him; she is so over that man, it isn’t even funny.
“No bed, no wall, no hood, and no table!” They are exhausting.
“But a countertop?”
“You are impossible.” I spin around, turning my back to my horny little sister and busying myself with placing dishes in the cabinets once more. Hearing a car door slam, I look up just in time to see the man of the hour walking up his driveway toward his house. I try not to react; having my sisters add fuel to the already burning fire inside of me is the last thing I need. Janie and her breakdown of the impossible did leave me feeling slightly intrigued, but I will never admit it.
“Oh, my weeping vagina, is that him?” I scowl and turn, expecting to see Janie at my side but am surprised to find Jackie with her mouth agape. “Little sister, you have got to have this party.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s hot,” Jackie adds, leaning further over the counter to get a better look, her face now practically pressed to the glass awkwardly. “Hot guys always F-U-C-K better when they’re angry and pissed off.”
“And you would know this how?”
She shrugs, and I find myself wondering which sister is worse. I think Jackie has been holding out on us.
“So Saturday?” Janie is peering over my shoulder, doing her best to get a good view of the angry bear who resides next door. “Just about fifteen people, tops.”
I wanted to say no, I know I should, but instead I find myself nodding as I envision my wild sister’s fantasy playing out in my head.
Closing my eyes, I can almost picture him only inches from me, his nostrils flaring as he takes me in slowly. His chest rising and falling as he tries to fight the electricity that builds. Then he moves, and we test out the strength of my tiny table before moving along to all the other locations my sisters mentioned.
Chapter Three
Shane
“Good morning, dear.” I look up just in time to see Martha entering my mother’s room carrying a small tub and a sponge with a soft towel. “It’s time for this beautiful lady’s afternoon pampering.” She offers me a smile, and I attempt to return one as I shift my gaze toward my mother.
Pampering, I wish. What I wouldn’t give to have that be true. My mother deserves a day at a top of the line spa, manicure, pedicure, facial, and a long relaxing massage. Only she’s stuck here in the bed, with a warm sponge bath as her special treatment.
“How’s work going?”
Taking in a deep breath, I ignore the heightened pain that settles deep in my chest. Looking away as Martha begins to run the warm cloth over my mother’s arm, I do my best to shake the sadness it causes.
“Which one?” I finally mumble, remembering that she did ask me a question I’ve yet to answer.
“Both, all, any.”
Out of all the staff at Evergreen Estates, Martha is the one I feel a deep connection to. She is an amazing woman, kind, and so full of compassion that at times I wonder how one person can be so caring. To strangers no less, only after three years I feel like she’s family to me and my mother.
“The shop is good,” I begin, knowing she doesn’t deserve my irritation. “They hired another technician to fill my place after they bumped me up to manager. I have more control of my hours now, which helps, and they’ve been great with everything.”
“That’s good.” She continues to clean my mother, moving slowly over her arm and along her upper chest. “And the bar?”
“They’re all the same.” Wild, loud, and exhausting.
“But with some man candy behind the bar, I’m sure the tips are good.” I catch her smirk and sit back in the chair, crossing my ankle over my knee. “Meet any interesting ladies?”
With the exception of my irritating neighbor, you mean?
“You know that I barely have time to take care of myself, Martha.” For the first time today, I smile and mean it. “Women are entirely too much trouble, always needy and nagging.”
“What a charmer.” She leans in toward my mother, almost like she’s talking to her instead of me. “We need to teach this son of yours how to treat a lady. The right one is worth the hassle, am I right, Nora?”
A bitterness toward my father settles deep in my stomach, and I have to work hard to keep my harsh words hidden deep. I have a really hard time believing that my mom is alert enough to understand anything around her. There have never been signs that she understands, but a part of me holds out hope that it’s true. It’s part of why I visit her every single day; it doesn’t matter how tired I am. I want her to know she’s loved and that she is important. I need her to understand that even though my father ran out on her, I never will.
“You need to live a little, Shane.” Martha pulls me out of my thoughts and back to the present. “A nice young lady to spend time with. You aren’t getting any younger, ya know?”
“Are you calling me old?”
“Twenty-eight is hardly old.” Her smile is contagious. “I am saying that one day you’re gonna blink and you’ll be fifty, alone, and have a lifetime of regrets.”
“Spending time here with you lovely ladies is something I will never regret.” She ignores me as she concentrates on caring for my mother.
“I just know that if your mother could tell you herself she would say that you need to have a life outside of here and outside of work.” I understand where Martha is coming from. I do get lonely sometimes, but my loyalties stand with my mother, and I won’t allow anything to deter me from providing for her.
***
I have a few hours before I had to be at Mulligans, and with the little sleep I got last night, I decide to grab a quick nap. I discard my clothes and toss them to the floor as I climb into bed and pull the comforter over my head. The dark curtains hanging on my windows do very little to block out the bright sun. Times like this, I wish I had one room in the house that had no windows in it.
I ignore the vibration of my phone on the floor still tucked safely in my back pocket and begin to doze off. I know it’s most likely Slate asking if I’m on shift tonight. He and the guys are always hassling me about going out, and when they can’t catch up with me, they come to the bar when I’m working just to get some guy time.
It’s hard watching all my friends moving on with their lives. Dating, making something of themselves while I remain stuck in the life I’ve been force fed.
As I allow my body to relax, I let my mind wander to the impossible, remembering what it was like before the accident.
Remembering Katy, the newness of our relationship, and how I was looking forward to getting to know her better. Things were fun, uncomplicated, and the sex, though it was so new, it was killer. She was younger by two years, just moved to town, and we’d met up in a bar. She was spunky, a little forward, but I found her honesty refreshing. It was nice to be with a girl that knew what she wanted.
The problem was when the accident happened, Katy realized that the honeymoon period for us was over and she bolted. She wasn’t ready to be tied to a guy that had just gone from twenty-five to fifty overnight. She wanted late nights, sleeping in, and trips away, and those were all things I could no longer offer.
I can’t honestly blame her; none of my baggage was her problem. She didn’t sign up for that shit. She was young and free, and I no longer had that fr
eedom.
The sound of laughter pulls me out of my sleep-filled haze, and I look toward my window, silently waiting for it to die down.
A chorus of female voices, giggles followed by the excessive barking of a dog, grates on my nerves. The longer I lay there listening to it, the more irritated I grow. I’ve gotten used to the quietness around me. The neighbor to my right is an older man in his late sixties, and ninety-eight percent of the time there is barely any signs that he is even home. The house to my left, which now houses the noisy-as-fuck female, was vacant for weeks. Prior to the current resident, it was occupied by a lady who worked the late shift and pretty much followed the same pattern that I do. Up late, and sleep whenever you can.
Now I am stuck with someone who is bringing out the inner asshole in me. Twice now I’ve been awoken from much-needed sleep to her excessive noise.
Gathering my jeans from the floor, I slip one leg in, followed by the other, and forego fastening them. Walking through my place, I pause near the glass sliding doors and take in a deep breath.
“Try not to be a dick,” I mumble to myself as I pull open the door and step outside.
The dry heat of the late afternoon hits me in the face, and I consider forgetting it all and going back inside where it’s nice and cool when I hear the laughter once again.
Pausing, peering around the corner of the house, I take in the sight before me. Not one, but three women lay sprawled out on lounge chairs, all wearing skimpy bikinis. Immediately I recognize the smartass from this morning. She has a pair of shades pulled down over her eyes, and the soft pink of her suit is almost the same shade as her skin. Her legs are slightly parted, and if I was a better man, I would have looked away, only I don’t. I take a few minutes, hidden in the shadows of my patio, to take her in.
Long legs, toned, leading the way to a trim waist. The shimmering of what appears to be a piercing in her navel catches the light just right as she shimmies in her chair, laughing at something one of the other girls said.